


Unfinished Business

by Karita Wyr (karitawyr)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Not all of Harry's ideas are good ideas, Snape is not a nice man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24532822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karitawyr/pseuds/Karita%20Wyr
Summary: Harry needs a safe place to hide. Instead of safety, he finds a dangerous wizard.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> Written December 2006 for LJ user tearsdrowntoday. This story takes place in the late fall following book 6.

At the time, Harry had thought it was a brilliant idea. Wrung out from a duel with three Death Eaters, he was too exhausted to apparate the long distance back to the safe house he was sharing with Ron and Hermione. He needed a way home or a safe place to rest. The Knight Bus was out. The owners had ceased its operation months ago, claiming it was too dangerous to continue the service in these troubled times. He had no portkey and knew of no homes in the area with a floo.

There had to be someplace nearby he could go, someplace the Death Eaters didn't know about. Then the idea had struck him. What about a place they did know about but would consider off limits because the Order also knew about it? What about Riddle Mansion which happened to be about five kilometers away?

Because of that brilliant idea, he came to from a stupor tied to a wooden chair in a dark windowless room at the mercy, if one could call it mercy, of the traitorous Severus Snape. The only light in the room filtered down the hallway from another room, but Harry didn't need light to know it was Snape who held him prisoner. He could tell by  
the even cadence of the footfalls on the wooden floor as his captor circled the chair, like drum beats at an execution. He could tell by the darkness make darker by the heavy wool of Snape's robes.

And if there were any doubts in Harry's mind with whom he shared the darkness, they were put to an uneasy rest when Snape spoke, his voice oozing disdain. "Well, well, well. The great Harry Potter has come for a visit."

"Why are you keeping me here? I figured you would have killed me on sight," Harry tugged ineffectually at his bindings. Not only were the ropes tied with the proficiency of an experienced sailor, but they appeared to be spelled in place as well, if the tiny shocks he received when he pulled too hard on them were any indication.

"Good question. As delightful as killing you straight away might be, it would only hold an instant's amusement. I have something much more meaningful in mind."

"Torturing me is meaningful? Causing me pain is meaningful?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"I have no intention of discussing how your time with me will be spent. We will begin in the morning." Snape turned to leave.

"Begin what? You're going to leave me here all night?"

"Of course. Even your inferior imagination should conjure up enough sufficiently nasty scenarios to keep you awake and in terror most of the night. The very thought warms my heart."

"What heart?" Harry demanded. Snape was evil, rotten to the core, a deceiver and a murderer. He had no heart.

"Oh, I have one, Potter, as does Voldemort. You would do well to remember that." With that Snape was gone, and Harry was alone with his thoughts. Unfortunately for Harry, his imagination was by no means inferior.

He must have finally fallen into an exhausted sleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning, for he awoke, still in the chair, in what appeared to be the basement now obviously made over into a potions lab. The smell of burning hippogriff hair mixed with almonds assailed his nostrils and he gagged, alerting Snape that he had awakened.

"Ah, the Boy Who Lived still lives, but for how long?" Snape taunted, leaning in close to Harry. If Harry could have backed away, put some distance between himself and his tormentor he would have. Snape's gaze, from eyes that were the darkest brown not black as Harry had always thought, bore into Harry, cataloging every perceived flaw.

"Before we begin, there are a few things I must tell you," Snape said. "There is no way out of here unless I choose to let you go. Do not bother trying to sneak out a window or through the chimney or any other equally trite plan. You will fail. Do not attack me. Again, you will fail. I am surrounded by a magical protective shield. The spell is one of my own creations. I believe you are aware of how effective my spells are?"

Harry shivered within his bindings, remembering the sight of Draco Malfoy bleeding out on the floor of the bathroom, bleeding because Harry had used an unknown spell on him, one created by the Half-Blood Prince, by Snape. Snape's spell would protect him from anything Harry could throw at him, literally or figuratively.

"Now then, you must be parched; perhaps you'd care for a little something to drink." Snape reached for a beaker full of bubbling, reddish liquid. "This should be perfect."

Shock caused Harry to rear back in his chair, nearly tipping it over onto the stone floor. Snape grabbed at the ropes wrapped around his chest and settled him upright once more. Harry was wild-eyed with fear. "You're going to make me your guinea pig? Turn me into some horribly disfigured mutant?"

"It would not serve my purposes to harm you too badly right at the start. Now drink." Snape thrust the beaker of bubbling liquid against Harry's lips.

"No!" Harry struggled some more. The spells on the ropes shocked him until he sobbed in pain.

"I did tell you that you would fail if you attempted to get away, did I not? Allow me to make this easier for the both of us." Snape picked up his wand and waved it at Harry. The spell was wordless, but effective. It made Harry compliant for just long enough to swallow down the potion.

When he was released from the spell, Harry spat the small amount of potion that remained in his mouth at Snape. "I am going to kill you. Even if you turn me into some three-headed purple slug, I will find a way," he vowed.

"You may indeed discover a way, but will you actually be able to do it?" Snape responded enigmatically before returning to work on yet another potion.

*^*

Harry spent the remainder of the morning and the first part of the afternoon searching the room with his eyes, trying to find a way out of the mess he was in. There was little else he could do. Snape had eventually tired of Harry constantly asking variations of, "Why are you doing this to me?" and "What do you want from me?" Harry had been silenced with a wave of Snape's hand. Panic had set in almost immediately, but Harry relaxed somewhat when he realized that Snape hadn't cut off his air only his voice. 

He tried not to think about what the red potion might be doing to him. Concentrating on Snape's activities distracted him from a variety of terrifying thoughts. Harry could feel the magic surrounding Snape as he worked, the pull of it as he silently accio'd an object from across the room. It was weird; he didn't hear the words fall from Snape's lips, they echoed in his mind, like he recognized him with his other senses. He saw the words in his mind, smelled and tasted their magical intent, felt them as if they were a breeze across his skin. He shook his head to dissipate the ridiculous thought. It was a spell he was familiar with nothing more. He was being fanciful, succumbing already to the alternating fear and boredom of his captivity. 

Harry closed his eyes. These thoughts were getting him nowhere; he needed to think logically if he wanted to get away from here. 

With his eyes firmly shut, Harry missed the displeased expression that flitted across Snape's face.

*^*

It was dark outside by the time Snape was finished with his work in the lab. Harry suffered through the indignity of being floated, still tied to the chair, to a bedroom on the second floor. Again he felt a stir of magic as Snape released him from his bonds.

He stood up, but after being tied for so long he wobbled unsteadily after a few steps. Snape pushed him down onto the bed. "Sit down before you fall down, you imbecile."

The bed bounced, its motion aggravating the headache that had been building behind Harry's eyes for most of the afternoon. 

"There's food and water on the table and a sink and toilet through there." Snape motioned to a doorway across the room. "There are charms on everything you see to prevent you from injuring yourself. There is nothing in here with which you can harm me either, so please do us both a favor and do not try anything stupid. If you do, I will be forced to tie you up again."

"I'd think you'd enjoy that!" Harry said hotly.

"Under the right circumstances, perhaps. These are not those circumstances." Snape replied as he departed, shutting the door behind him.

At one time, Harry had thought that if he died young he'd come back and haunt the Dursley's, maybe popping out of the plumbing like Moaning Myrtle did. He amended that idea. He'd come back and haunt Snape, even if he'd had to do it as a purple slug.

*^*

The next morning Harry got up early and dressed quickly. He tried to stand close to the door, in order to jump his captor, but he was unable to stand in the spot he needed to. His feet kept sliding across the floor, placing him a safe distance from the door. Snape had certainly thought of everything.

When Snape arrived for him, Harry was sitting primly on the bed, hands folded in his lap. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, eyes downcast, voice quavering.

"The little boy lost act will not work on me. As you say, I am a cold-hearted bastard, so you can stop the performance immediately."

Once Snape had escorted Harry to the workroom and bound him to the chair, Harry asked again, "Why are you doing all this to me? The potion isn't doing anything."

"Need we go over this again? Just because you can't see the effects does not mean there aren't any." Snape's voice oozed irritation.

"Why don't you answer my question?" 

"Why do you insist on asking the same question over and over, especially when you should already know the answer."

"Well, I don't!" Harry shouted.

"Because you don't use the brain that you were given. And until you do, you won't know the answer."

"What's with you, Snape? Are you just keeping me alive so I can live to be insulted another day?"

"Yes. I am, because the rats don't seem to care when I call them cretins. Now, shut your mouth so I can work."

"I don't see any value in that for me, since you're over there concocting some way to kill me."

"Remember how I shut that mouth of yours yesterday? I shall do it again if you will not be quiet," Snape threatened.

Harry decided his best option was to sit quietly and watch Snape prepare the red potion. He might be able to determine just what its effects were. He realized that he was familiar with all the ingredients he saw Snape pull from the shelves, and none of them were harmful on their own, nor were any of the combinations that he could recall. Was there something else that Snape was adding to the potion that Harry could not see? If not, then all these ingredients would produce a modified strengthening potion, similar to one he remembered making in fifth year. Snape had added a touch of ginkgo biloba that would increase mental acuity as well. Which didn't make sense. There had to be something else. 

Snape crossed the room to the shelves. There was a flutter of magic as a protection spell was released. Snape removed a jar, replaced the spell and returned to his cauldron. A tiny bit of something Harry couldn't see was added to the potion. He knew it! Snape had been toying with him, there was nothing harmful in the previous potion, but there was something in this one. Snape was fattening Harry up, like a Christmas goose, making him stronger so his body could take whatever else he planned.

"Time for breakfast, Potter," Snape declared when the altered potion was ready. Harry had no choice, he drank the potion down, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for something terrible to happen. He was so focused on the feel of his own body, on determining if his organs had rearranged themselves or if his arms had shortened dramatically that he did not notice Snape coming up behind him until he felt the man's hot breath against his ear. It was strangely pleasant. Immediately after that thought, he felt his body react in a most unexpected and embarrassing way.

"My, this is interesting development. I had no idea that you felt that way about me, Potter." Snape whispered against Harry's neck.

Harry was appalled. Appalled and hard. "It’s the potion." It _had_ to be the potion.

Snape walked around the chair to face Harry. He dipped his head low to stare into Harry's eyes, smiling a nasty knowing smile. "What if I told you it could not possibly be the potion?"

"I'd say you were lying." 

"Poor, poor Harry Potter, in such denial, attracted to his rotten old Potions professor."

"Ex-professor," Harry corrected automatically. He forgot for an instant he was supposed to deny the "attracted to his professor" thing. Down deep he knew he sort of was attracted to Snape. After all, Snape was the Half-Blood Prince, and Harry could not deny that on some level he had been attracted to that manifestation of Snape, attracted to his wit and his intelligence. If it wasn't the potion making him react this way, then that was his reason; he had admired, maybe even had a little crush on, the Half-Blood Prince. It had absolutely nothing to do with Snape himself and the way them man was looking at him like he was some sort of ripe fruit. It also had nothing to do with the long-fingered hand that was sliding sensuously up Harry's thigh or that Snape was now kneeling on the stone floor in front of him. Nothing at all.

That hand slid inexorably closer to Harry's groin, and Harry did nothing to stop it, not that he could have done much, tied as he was. He gave a low wordless moan when Snape's hand closed over Harry's aching hardness, massaging him through his jeans. It felt good.

No. No. No. It couldn't feel good. It was wrong. He hated Snape. Snape wanted to do terrible, awful things to Harry, didn't he?

But he hadn't done terrible things to him. Not really, nothing like what he could do. All he'd done was confine him to a room at night and bind him to a chair during the day. Admittedly, the latter wasn't pleasant, but not nearly so unpleasant as the things Harry knew the man was capable of. Maybe the potion Snape was forcing him to consume really was nothing more than it appeared to be, a strengthening potion. But why? Why was Snape doing these things and, oh god, why was he doing the thing that he was doing now, touching Harry, making him feel good, even when he didn’t want to? Harry was more confused than ever.

He let out a shuddering breath. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked, biting his lower lip as orgasm approached.

Snape's voice sounded like a low rumble of thunder from far away. "The answer is simple, Potter. Even someone as willfully ignorant as you might come up with it."

Harry rather doubted that, not if he continued to be aroused by Snape's touch. But he couldn't be arsed to care when seconds later he came panting out the only thing he knew for certain, "Snape, you are an opportunistic bastard."

Snape wiped his damp hand on Harry's jeans then stood. "It appears you are capable of learning after all." He strode out of the makeshift lab leaving Harry alone with an uncomfortable cooling mess in his pants. Strangely, though, his bindings felt a bit looser.

*^*

It was the same routine for three more days and nights. Snape retrieved Harry from his room in the morning and performed a cleaning spell on Harry, so he presumably wouldn't stink. Then he was led to the workroom, bound to the chair, and forced to drink the potion. He sat there each day with nothing to do but fret about a possible change in the routine, like the forced intimacy of the second day. Other than that all he could do was let his mind drift, his thoughts floating on the magical current that Snape created while he worked. Sometimes the magic coalesced into blurry pictures, half recognizable chants, or even a snippet of a lilting song. All these things were so close to his mental grasp, but when he reached for them they slipped away like the very first chocolate frog he ever opened.

At the end of the fifth day of his captivity, an owl arrived bearing a letter for Snape. The owl didn't even wait for Snape to give it a treat. As soon as the missive was out of its grasp, it flew to the farthest end of the room to perch precariously atop a cabinet, hooting softly to itself. To Harry's ear the hoots sounded like whimpers. Was the owl disturbed by Snape, as any being would be, or was there some dark energy contained in the paper itself that disturbed this bird?

Snape crumpled up the parchment and threw it to the ground, mumbling something about "no more time" and a visitor.

Releasing Harry from his bonds, Snape said, "We are done here." He motioned Harry upstairs, but when they arrived on the upper level, he pointed Harry to a different room. It was obviously the room Snape had been occupying. The bed had finer linens then the ones Harry had been sleeping on and potions journals and books were scattered about the room.

Snape scooped Harry up in his arms and tossed him onto the bed. Harry lay sprawled across the coverlet, wide-eyed with fear. "I thought we were done for the day," Harry stammered, unwilling to contemplate why he had been deposited on Snape's bed.

"By no means am I through with you yet, Potter." Snape snarled. "I am running out of time and patience with you. I will teach you yet! Unfortunately, you only learn when the lesson is extreme in nature."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked, shifting slightly, calculating his chances of reaching the door before Snape could stop him.

"You will know soon enough. You will feel it, every bit of it." Snape said as he advanced across the room.

"Every bit of what?"

Snape lunged at Harry, landing on top of him, pinning Harry's wrists with his hands. "Every bit of this," Snape answered, thrusting his groin against Harry's. Harry could feel Snape's unmistakable erection, the steady heat of the other man's body through the dual layers of their clothes. 

"Stop," Harry begged. "I don’t want this!"

Snape stilled for a moment, tilting his head as if considering Harry's pleas. "What do you want? What do you want more than anything else?" Snape asked. It should have been a taunt, but Snape sounded rather curious instead.

"I want Voldemort dead!" Harry wasn't sure why he said that. He wanted to get away from Snape more than anything, right? Maybe not. Harry felt his cock react rather positively to the sweet friction Snape was creating as he rubbed against him. 

"If that is what you want then you must escape. However, I do not believe you are ready to get away yet."

"What makes you say that?" The situation was no longer frightening; it was ridiculous _and_ frightening.

"Because you haven't gotten away yet." Snape answered cryptically.

"I can't," Harry whined.

"Oh, but you can, Potter. Until you determine how, I think I shall enjoy myself with you."   
Sitting up to kneel between Harry's spread legs, Snape released his physical hold on the boy's hands. The binding spell was in place once more and Harry felt invisible shackles tethering him to the bed by his wrists and ankles.

Snape leaned down to kiss Harry, tongue thrusting against Harry's lips, pressing hard. Harry tried to resist, to turn away from the kiss, but it was no use. Both of Snape's hands were free and he used them to hold Harry's head in place, one hand tangled in Harry's mussed hair, one curving from his neck to his ear, fingertips lightly tracing the shell of Harry's ear. Harry moaned, parting his lips. Snape ruthlessly pressed his advantage, delving his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry shivered at the teasing touches of Snape's agile tongue against his teeth, the roof of his mouth, his lips.

When Snape drew away from Harry, they were both drawing deep breaths. Harry searched Snape's face for some sign that the man might yet free him. "This is wrong," Harry stated.

"I know. Why do you think it is wrong? Because you are my captive? Because I'm Severus Snape, your rotten old former teacher? Or because you like it? Hmm, Potter?"

"All three. All wrong," Harry answered.

"They say two wrongs do not make a right. Perhaps three do." Reaching for the bottom button on Harry's shirt, Snape dived in for another kiss. The button slipped easily out of its hole, as easily as Harry's tongue slid into Snape's mouth.

Snape finished flicking open the remaining buttons with practiced ease, parting the sides of Harry's shirt. He ran his hands leisurely over Harry's smooth chest. Harry arched into the touch. It was wrong, so very wrong, but it felt good. Harry couldn't deny that he wanted Snape. It was stupid, unhealthy, and probably deadly, but he didn't care. He wanted more, wanted his hands and legs free, wanted to participate. Magic swept through him. All his nerves felt like they fired at once, creating magical impulses rather than electrical. Harry wrapped his suddenly free legs around Snape, pushing his hard erection against Snape. 

Snape chuckled. "That's it, Potter. Now you've got it." He dipped his head to take one of Harry's puckered nipples into his mouth. As he bathed it with his tongue and his attention, Harry threaded his fingers in Snape's hair, tugging his head over to the other nipple. Harry whimpered as the sensitive flesh was given a none-too-gentle bite before Snape slid down his body. The button on Harry's jeans was popped open and the zipper was pulled down. Snape peeled the denim down slowly, revealing Harry inch by inch, pausing every now and then to kiss, lick, or bite an interesting bit of flesh. Harry moaned when teeth and tongue grazed over his hip bone and when cool lips brushed against the delicate skin of his inner thighs. 

Once the jeans were removed, Snape concentrated his attention on Harry's erect cock. With the first touch of hand to cock, Harry felt himself begin to burn. Snape's hand on him felt so different from his own. His own touch he could anticipate. He knew how much pressure would be applied, how long the stroke would be. Harry tried to anticipate Snape's touches and found himself holding his breath, releasing it with a gasp each time a finger stroked up the underside of his cock or a strong hand gripped him. There was no pattern, no precedent, only pleasure. 

Harry's eyes drifted closed only to fly open again when Snape's tongue teased at his slit, darting out for a tiny taste of precome, then returning for another sample. Harry tore at the coverlet when Snape finally gave into Harry's pleas and took him fully into his mouth, sucking in earnest

"Oh my God, yes! Don't stop. It's so good," Harry babbled. It was more than good, it was unreal. This couldn't be happening to him. He wasn't receiving the greatest pleasure of his life from Snape. He pinched himself to be sure this wasn't all some strange dream induced by Ron's awful cooking. It was then that he realized that his hands were free, had been free for some time. When did that happen? How did that happen?

Snape let Harry's wet cock fall from his mouth. He crawled back over Harry's supine form to kiss Harry's panting mouth, sharing the young man's taste with him. "Are you ready for more, Potter?"

"More?" Harry asked. There was more? Intellectually he knew there was. Physically he was unsure his body could handle it. He answered before he had time to process the possibilities. "Oh, yes."

Snape disappeared from the bed, stripping off his clothes efficiently. Harry had a brief glimpse of long thin legs and a long thick cock before Snape rejoined him on the bed. Snape settled on his knees between Harry's legs and plucked Harry's glasses from his flushed face, setting them on the bedside table. Placing his hands under Harry's buttocks, he lifted the boy slightly, shoving a pillow beneath his hips and spreading his thighs. Before Harry could adjust to the openness of the new position, he felt a lubricant-slick finger circling his opening, barely brushing against the sensitive nerve endings. The finger slid smoothly in, working the lubricant into the tight hole. Harry concentrated and tried to squeeze his inner muscles around that finger. He knew he was successful when Snape let out a groan.

"Do that again when I'm inside you." Snape commanded. He quickly added another finger to the first, stretching Harry with two fingers for awhile before removing them both. He slicked up his cock with the lubricant, positioned himself and pushed into Harry's waiting body.

Snape wasn't gentle; Harry hadn't expected him to be. He was relentless, pressing forward then almost easing out of Harry and sliding back in deeper than before. Soon, he was buried deeply inside Harry.

Harry looked into Snape's dark eyes and said, "Now." He clenched his muscles around Snape's cock. Whatever control Snape had was lost at that moment. He braced himself on his forearms and pounded into Harry's body. Varying the angle of his thrusts the next few times he thrust forward, Snape found the spot that made Harry cry out in pleasure. Harry wrapped his legs around Snape's waist and hung on. 

Soon Harry's hips were bucking rapidly as bolt after bolt of pleasure shot through him. His cock rubbed against Snape's belly, leaving a damp trail across Snape's pale skin. Harry reached between them to stroke himself, but his hands were simply batted away while Snape continued his sweet torment. 

"Not yet," Snape admonished. "Soon."

They moved together in the rhythm that Snape had set. Harry tossed his head from side to side. There was an ache deep inside of him. It spread outward, crushing the breath from his lungs, turning his limbs to water. He came, hot and hard, chanting, "Yes!"

Snape followed him down, howling his own release before collapsing across Harry's sated body. Harry accepted the weight for several minutes. Once his breathing evened out, he tried to wriggle out from beneath Snape's surprisingly heavy body. Unable to move, he bit Snape's sweaty shoulder, teeth piercing cooling flesh. Snape gave a small cry of pain and pulled away from Harry. He flopped down next to Harry on top of the coverlet.

Pain. Snape had felt pain, pain caused by Harry's actions. It shouldn't have been possible unless Snape's personal shield was no longer effective. Snape had been unable to maintain it during sex. 

Harry leaped up from the bed. No sooner than he had thought that Snape needed to be restrained than it was a reality. The man was bound to the bed with the same spell that had held Harry.

"Time to get away, I see," Snape drawled with unexpected calm.

Harry stared at the man who was now his captive. There was something in Snape's expression that worked like a catalyst, speeding up Harry's thought processes. Memories from the past several days reordered themselves in his mind. Understanding dawned at last. 

Harry grabbed for his rumpled clothing, dressing as fast as he could. He looked up from fastening the last of his shirt buttons. Snape had struggled to a seated position, his mouth curved into an almost smile, lips turned up at the corners. "Why are you doing this, Potter? Leaving me here like this?" he asked mimicking the questions Harry had repeatedly tormented him with.

Finally, the answer was obvious to Harry. "Because it needs to be done," he replied. 

"Any other reason?"

"Because I want to." Harry said simply. 

"Good work, Harry."

Goodnight, Snape, Harry thought as one word plowed to the front of his mind. _Dormata._ Snape toppled back onto the mattress, snoring before his head hit the pillow.

Harry ran down the stairs, unconsciously defeating all the restraining spells and traps that Snape had set. The counterspells were all there in his mind. He had "heard" them all everyday that he was here and now he simply knew them, knew how to cast them without a wand or a word spoken.

A rickety table next to the front entrance held Harry's wand and a thick book. He snatched up both on his way out. The book was titled _Reliable Spells for the Repair and Healing of the Weakened Heart_ by Camilla Patterson Greenwood. Not what Harry would've ordinarily considered important reading for a person on a quest to destroy a dark lord. However, he recalled Snape saying he would do well to remember that Voldemort had a heart. Maybe this dry text would lead him to a way to defeat his nemesis. Or maybe it was Snape's idea of a joke. It was hard to say. Everything that had happened here with Snape was a lesson, hidden within a scenario that if revealed to Voldemort showed no treachery on Snape's part. It was a twisted yet clever plan, much cleverer than anything Harry or even Hermione might ever come up with. Knowing this, Harry thought Snape's last lesson with the book might well be "don't expect everything to be handed to you on a silver platter, boy." 

Harry ran to the edge of the wards surrounding the mansion. He could apparate from the beginning of the carriage drive. He wondered what he should tell his friends about where he had been and what he might say or do to Snape should they meet again.


End file.
